


Sweet Sixteen

by kittencaboodle



Series: Snapshots [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Birthday, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Other, Shenanigans, Side Victuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9054622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittencaboodle/pseuds/kittencaboodle
Summary: Yurio gets the best surprise for his birthday.Loosely connected to Banquet, Take Two.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Highly recommend reading Banquet, Take Two first.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8885788/

Normally Yuri wasn’t one to make a fuss about his birthday. The only person who did anything special was his grandpa; every year he would make a nice big birthday dinner and cake, always Yuri’s favorite. Mila would also make a point to acknowledge it, maybe bring him a cupcake or take him out to lunch, but beyond that, it was just another day in the life.

He had been up late texting Otabek, who promptly texted a “Happy Birthday!” (followed by a gift-box emoji) at midnight, (3:00am his own time). Yuri was surprised he’d stayed up so late, just to text him; nonetheless it made him smile like an idiot, and he’d being lying if he said his face didn’t flush. 

He had the day off for his birthday, but as much as Yuri tried to sleep in, he could only make it to 8:30 before he had to roll out of bed. The habits of waking up early for practice were too deeply ingrained in him. Grandpa had already gone to work by the time he got up, but left breakfast on the table with a ‘Happy Birthday’ note. Taking his breakfast to the living room, he flipped through television channels while he ate. Not long after, his phone buzzed, it was a text from Mila. 

 _Happy birthday, dork  
_ _Come to the rink_

 _What do you want, hag  
_ _It’s my day off_

_Yakov is pissed, you’d better get down here._

With Yakov pissed, it could be any number of things, Yuri groaned and tossed his phone.

On the other side of the line, Mila giggled. “He’s on his way.” 

Yuri quickly suited up and made his way to the rink. When he got there, he saw no sign of Yakov, or anyone else for that matter, which was strange, considering everyone _but_ him _should_ be there. “Mila, you hag, where are you?” He called. “I swear if everyone is hiding—”

“Surprise.” That wasn’t Mila. 

“Beka!” He turned, and on instinct he took a flying leap into a hug, nearly knocking the two of them over. “You’re here!” 

“Happy birthday, Yuri.” 

“Thank you, Beka.

 _This_ was going to be a special birthday. 

They stood there for a moment, holding each other. 

“Ahem.” Oh,  _there_ was Mila, “I hate to interrupt, but I would just like to point out that I helped orchestrate this little rendezvous.” Yuri shot her a hard glare, Otabek just nodded in appreciation; her and the rest of Yuri’s rinkmates had pitched in for the plane ticket, not to mention it was her idea. “Also, we need the rink back.” 

“Come on.” 

 

Yuri held tight to him as they rode downtown. 

They spent a good bit of the day walking around downtown St. Petersburg, catching up on the few months they’d been apart (even though they FaceTimed just about every day). Yuri couldn’t resist a little birthday shopping—he bought them matching animal print accessories, with no protest from Otabek, who wore his leopard print scarf with dignity. 

The day had been fairly peaceful, until a freak sighting by some rabid fangirls interrupted their  ~~date~~  outing. And _of course_ they knew it was his birthday, and _of course_ they had come prepared. Did they scour the city, hoping he’d be out?

“Run.” He grabbed Otabek’s hand and ran in the opposite direction from the mob. _Never_ run straight from a stampede; Otabek pulled them into an alley, hoping that it would be an outlet to another back road. No such luck, a chain-linked fence blocked their only exit. They stood, their backs pressed to a brick wall, trying to wait out the girls. “Is the coast clear?” 

Otabek peeked his head around the corner. At the sight of pink cat ears, he quickly hid himself again. “No, they’re still out there.” 

Yuri sighed; they’d be stuck for a while. 

“I think I saw them this way!” 

Oh god. They were coming. “Shit. What do we do now?” 

Without hesitation, Otabek grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the fence. “We’re going to climb it.” 

“We’re what!” The fence was about 3 meters high, by Yuri’s approximation.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, come here.” Otabek made a platform with his hands, “I’ll give you a boost.” With few other options, Yuri stepped up onto his hands, he grabbed the highest part of the fence he could reach and latched on for dear life. “Climb!” When he reached the top, he turned and extended a hand down to Otabek, helping to pull him up. 

“There they are!” 

“Jump?” 

“Jump.” 

Well, it was more a fall than a jump. They ended up in a heap on top of each other, but relatively unhurt. 

“Sorry about all of this.” Yuri apologized, rubbing the fresh bruises on his arms and legs. 

“Are you kidding? I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Let’s get out of here before they find us.”

 

Eventually they found their way back to Otabek’s bike (without being noticed, thankfully). Taking advantage of the unusually warm and pleasant early March evening, they went down to the waterfront. It was much windier down by the water, making it feel colder than it was.

They walked along the piers for a while, arm in arm for body heat before they ended up at a small cafe, not unlike the one they went to together in Barcelona. It was out of the way, a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of place where they would be safe from Yuri’s adoring fans. 

They talked and laughed while they ate. “By the way, where did you learn to climb fences like that?” 

“America.” He averted his eyes and said didn’t elaborate further; Yuri decided it was best not to question this hidden talent. 

Despite Yuri’s protests, Otabek paid for dinner, it was his birthday after all. 

“Fine, then let me buy drinks.” He gave a cheeky smile and led them toward a bar. “I’m legal now.” 

Otabek had momentary flashbacks of the banquet; Yuri fighting a plant, Yuri falling over himself, _Yuri dancing with him_ , Yuri calling him an angel. To this day, he wasn’t sure that Yuri remembered it; neither of them had the courage to bring it up, so it just sat, stewing. He sighed, “Fine.” 

“And Yakov can’t yell at me for this anymore… although he probably will.” He may or may not remember _all_ the details of that night, but the _painful_ memory that was burned in his mind was Yakov’s angry lecture the next morning, while he had a _killer_ hangover

He strode confidently up to the bar; “I’ll have a Stoli on the rocks.” 

The bartender looked to Otabek, “Just a water, please.” 

“C’mon Beka, you're no fun.”

“I still have to get you home tonight.”

“I don’t want to drink alone…on my _birthday_.” Oh he just pulled that card. “Isn’t your hotel near here, can we stay there tonight?”

Otabek stiffened a little, him and Yuri, drunk, in a hotel room, sharing one bed. Ah yes, what could go wrong? It had **bad idea** written all over it, but when Yuri hit him with his best puppy-face, he couldn’t say no.

“Fine, a rum and coke, please.”

Being small and inexperienced, it didn’t take long for the alcohol to hit Yuri’s system. He soon became giggly, talkative, and _touchy_. And while Otabek was decidedly _more_ sober than Yuri, he was by no means sober. He hadn’t been keeping track of the number of drinks they had, but midway through their second hour at the bar, he decided it was enough.

“Yuri,” he blinked, the room was starting to tilt a little, and he with it. “I think it’s time to head out.”

“Wait! First let mmme pay the nice man.” Yuri left the money, and a _very_ generous tip for the bartender. Otabek shrugged on his coat, then helped a struggling Yuri off his barstool and into his jacket.

They didn’t get further than a block before, Yuri grabbed the back of Otabek’s jacket. “Carry me, Beka.” He proceeded to wrap his arms around his waist and lean into him. “I’m tired.”

Otabek sighed, “Alright.”

They stumbled a little but eventually made it to the hotel room, Yuri clinging to his back. His head drooped onto Otabek’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. “Thanks, Beka.”

“Anytime, Yura.”

Once back in the room, Yuri slid off his back and onto the floor, not having the willpower to go much further. It didn’t take long for Otabek to collapse onto the bed thereafter.

 

“No shoes on the bed, Beka.” When Otabek didn’t move, he rolled from his spot on the floor to the edge of the bed, and fumbled to carefully untie each shoe and throw them aside.

Otabek mumbled something that might have been a ‘thank you.’ Yuri climbed up the edge of the bed and knelt next to him.

“You alright, Beka?” He gently pushed the hair away from his face to get a better look.

“Fine, just tired.” He murmured, half his face pressed into the mattress.

“Okay, go to sleep.” Acting on impulse Yuri kissed his forehead. They were both too drunk to worry about it, or what it meant, or what this was; instead, Yuri just curled up by his side and dozed off, his arm slung around Otabek’s waist and his forehead resting against his chest.

 

The next morning, they were both still clad in their scarves and jackets when they woke up.

Being an early riser, Yuri was the first up. He was still cuddled against Otabek when he opened his eyes, but he didn’t mind so much; it was comfortable and warm. He thought back to the previous night, he’d kissed him, and honestly, he didn’t regret it. He could easily pretend it didn’t happen and pass it off as a drunken move that meant nothing, but he didn’t really want to. Otabek was still sleeping when Yuri sat up. Considering his options on how to move forward, he looked down at his sleep friend and placed another kiss on his forehead before getting up.

A soft, sleepy smile graced Otabek’s face as Yuri got up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also drew Otabek giving Yuri a piggyback ride, check it out.  
> http://iwa-chan-hajime.tumblr.com/post/155688695310/drunk-otabek-carrying-an-even-drunker-yuri-is-my
> 
> I have been informed that the drinking age in Russia is NOT sixteen, but we're gonna pretend.  
> (shoulda done my research, whoops)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yurio dealing with the aftereffects of drunk decision-making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small supplement to that last chapter, it felt unfinished and in need of something more.  
> And finally, some sober interaction.

Before long, Yuri was asleep again, his hangover forcing him back into bed, back to Otabek’s side (who still hadn’t gotten up). It was late morning, far later than either of them were used to getting up when a blaring ringing noise filled the room. 

Yuri shot up from his spot under Otabek’s arm. “What the fuck?” He nursed his head while he searched for his phone to stop the incessant ringing. He found it as the noise stopped. 

The screen read:

_**Missed Calls: Grandpa (8)** _  
_8:47pm_  
_9:58pm_  
_11:04pm_  
_1:45am_  
_5:37am_  
_7:09am_  
_8:23am_  
_10:32am_

_**Voicemail: Grandpa (3)** _

_**Unread Messages: Mila (7)** _  
_Your grandpa just called me_  
_He said you never came home last night?_  
_He’s worried cause you’re not answering your phone_  
_Call him._  
_Yuri where are you?_  
_Are you okay?_  
_Call me_

 

His eyes widened in realization, he never told Grandpa that he wasn’t going to be home. 

“Is something wrong?” Otabek finally sat up.

“Shit, I forgot to tell the old man I was going out. I have to get home.” He grabbed his jacket as Otabek pulled on his shoes. Sensing the urgency, Otabek sped to the apartment. Yuri all but ran up the front steps, while Otabek followed behind him.

“Grandpa?” He called; his grandfather was in his chair in the living room. He’d probably been there all night, awake, worrying. 

“Yuri!” He expected yelling, but was met with a hug instead, which made him feel about a thousand times worse. “I was so worried about you Yurochka, you weren’t picking up your phone, and you didn’t come home last night, I didn’t know what to do with myself.” 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“No, but I wish you had told me you were going out. I made dinner last night.” Yuri could see the kitchen table from his spot in the living room. Place settings from last night’s dinner were out along with all of the food, now covered; a birthday cake, handcrafted and carefully prepared also sat on the counter, with unburnt candles sticking out of it. Yuri felt horrible.

Yuri hugged him tighter. “I’m sorry, grandpa.” 

He pulled away and turned very stern. “Yurochka, I’m not going to yell at you for going out for your birthday, but tell me next time so I’m not up all night worrying.” 

Yuri just nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s my fault.” Otabek chimed in from his spot in the doorway. “I surprised him for his birthday so the whole day was unplanned. I should have made contact with you.” 

Nikolai gave him a hard stare, “And who are you?” 

Otabek stiffened, but extended a hand. “Otabek Altin, Yuri’s friend.”

With a strong, almost threatening grip, Nikolai took it. “Ah yes, he talks about you quite often.” 

Yuri went beet red. Oh, and he though he was getting off easy, but no _this_ was his punishment. 

Otabek, probably now as uncomfortable as Yuri, quickly diverted. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring him home last night. We were drinking and it wouldn’t have been safe to drive.” Okay, probably not the best subject for a diversion. “I’m sorry we made you worry. I promise I would never let anything happen to your grandson.” 

Great, now _everyone_ was uncomfortable.

“Well… thanks for getting him home safe.”

“Always.” There was a tense moment of silence, before Otabek spoke again. “Well, I should be going.” With some mumbled goodbyes, he was out the door.

 

“So that’s the boy you’ve been talking to for the last couple months?”

If Yuri thought he could relax, he was wrong. “Yeah, my friend from competition…” He trailed off at his grandfather’s skeptical look. “What?” 

“Just a friend?” His eyes went wide and his face flushed; he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Come on Yurochka, I’m old, not senile. You talk about him like a lovestruck kitten… He seems like a nice kid.” Yuri reached new shades of red.

“We’re just friends.” He managed to mumble, his eyes on the floorboards between his shoes.

“He likes you too.” Yuri looked up, surprised. “Get your ass out there and give him a proper goodbye. Plisetskys aren’t cowards.” 

 

Yuri didn’t need anymore prompting; if Grandpa says it, it’s gotta be true. He ran down the stairs to catch Otabek before he left. Luckily, he was still sitting on his bike, feeling like an idiot for everything didn’t (and _did_ ) say. 

“Beka!” He ran toward the bike. “Good, you’re still here.” He didn’t want to think about it, that would only make him nervous. Without missing a beat, he placed a hand on Otabek’s face and pulled him down for a kiss. Despite the suddenness, it was tentative and awkward, short but sweet, and best of all, reciprocated. 

When it broke they looked at each other for a moment. “Ehm, uh, grandpa wanted me to invite you over for dinner tonight…if you want.” He said quickly, hoping to dissolve the tension. 

“I’ll be there.” His smile made Yuri want to melt. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I'll do another one? Who knows?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yurio realizes he has more people who love him than he thinks (featuring Otabek's first dinner at the Plisetsky household, and shenanigans with the Russian skating squad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter, more so than the last two, I hope it shows.

Why was he nervous? It was already over and he was back in his room, but his heart was still pounding in his ears. And why the _hell_ did he feel the need to text Victor and Yuuri and tell them about this? (Yes, they did have a group chat; with Yuuri now staying in Russia, he spent more time with them than he’d like to admit.)

He flopped down onto the bed, face first into a pillow. Sasha mewed next to him and rubbed her head against his. He rolled over and pulled her onto his chest, she meowed at the sudden movement but settled down and curled up. “What am I going to do, Sasha?” She just mewed quietly. “You’re so unhelpful.” She looked up and glared, like she understood. 

He just sighed; maybe practice would clear his head. 

 **_To: Katsudon & Victor_ **

_Are you at the rink?_

**_Katsudon_ ** _: No. Why? Did something happen?_

_No  
Jesus I was just asking_

**_Katsudon_ ** _: By the way, how was your birthday with Otabek :)_

Yuri got red all over again; Yuuri always knew when something was going on.

_Shut up_

**_Victor_ ** _: Sounds like **something** happened ;)_

_I hate you both_

Why hadn’t he just said ‘good’? 

 **_Katsudon_ ** _: Come meet us for lunch, the place near our apartment._

 _Ew no_  
_Why would I want to get lunch with you?_  
_What time?_

 **_Katsudon_ ** _: Meet us in an hour?_

He didn’t respond, but they knew he’d show up, he always did. He went out with them usually once a week; he did this just about every time. 

Yuri threw on clean clothes and checked his phone only a thousand times to see if Otabek texted him. He hadn’t of course, he had spent his own morning reeling in a similar fashion, and wondering how the hell he was going to get through this dinner.

 

Otabek rummaged through his bag, he hadn’t really brought any nice clothes, he hadn’t expected to go anywhere he would need them. But dinner with Yuri’s grandpa, he couldn’t wear jeans to _that_. Not to mention that he packed light for a two night stay and was running out of clean clothes altogether. He sighed, re-folding all the clothes he pulled out of his bag. 

He rolled his shoulders to release the nervous tension, he would just have to go and get new clothes. He searched the nearest stores, and bought some straight-legged black khakis; he couldn’t decide between a navy button down and a grey sweater, so he just bought them both. And cologne! He would need cologne, of course. 

He was so desperate to make a good impression that when he got to the register… _yikes_. But he couldn’t worry about the money when he was so worried about dinner. 

 

However begrudging he acted toward Yuuri and Victor, Yuri enjoyed spending time with them. If you said that to him, he might punch you though. Victor pointed it out once; Yuri left a bruise. 

He grabbed his jacket and stuffed his feet into his boots before running out. 

Yuuri and Victor were already sitting in their usual corner booth next to each other, acting all cutesy when Yuri walked in. “You guys make me want to vomit.” 

“You made it!” Yuuri, bless his heart, acted surprised every time. “Happy birthday!” He pulled two bags out from under the table. “We couldn’t agree on what to get you, so this one is from me, and this one is from Victor.” 

It was Yuri’s turn to be genuinely surprised, he wasn’t really used to gifts on his birthday. “Thank you.” He opened Yuuri’s present first; it was a leather jacket, with the face of a tiger embroidered on the back. Yuuri’s heart warmed when he saw the look on his face, pure shock and admiration. 

“I saw it and knew you had to have it.” 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”  

Yuri just barely caught the ‘ _I told you so_ ’look. Victor shot a look back and handed Yuri the smaller bag. He opened it to a gorgeous pair of sunglasses (with a subtle cheetah print). “They’re Gucci.” Victor smiled.

“I love them. Thank you both so much.” People could call Yuri a lot of things, but ungrateful was never one of them.

The waitress came over shortly after, with their usual orders. 

“So, how was your birthday?” 

“What happened with Otabek?” Victor was much less subtle than his fiancé, but they were both itching to know. 

As much as Yuri tried to hide his blush, even his ears burned red. “We just went out, it was a good day.” 

“Mila said you didn’t come home until this morning.” Victor prompted. Yuuri elbowed him. _Too far_. 

Yuri’s blush only deepened. “Nothing happened! Well, actually… I kissed him.” 

Victor sighed, “Anticlimactic.”  This time Yuuri whacked him and gave him a stern look. 

“Back up, what happened?” 

“Well, we spent all day together and it was a lot of fun, and then we were drinking—” 

“Oh no.” Yuuri couldn’t help but remember drunk Yuri at the banquet.

“And he carried me back to his hotel—” 

“You stayed in his hotel room and you’re telling me all you did was kiss him?” 

“Victor! He’s sixteen!” 

“Would you two stop interrupting me? …and Victor, you’re gross. _Anyway_ , we were both pretty drunk and tired, and he looked a little sick, so I kissed him on the forehead and we cuddled and fell asleep.” 

“On the forehead? So boring.” 

He bunched up a napkin and threw it at Victor’s face. Nailed it. “I’m _getting_ there. This morning, my grandpa was worried because I had never called him so I rushed home. And Beka met Grandpa…god it was so awkward. Beka was trying to apologize for keeping me out late, and Grandpa was so, _ugh_ , everything about it was uncomfortable. Then he left and grandpa was all ‘he likes you, go get him’ so I ran outside and kissed him before he left.” 

“That’s so cute…if only it were raining.” Yuuri, ever the hopeless romantic, mused. “Well, I’m happy for you, you’ve liked him for awhile, I’m glad you finally made a move.” 

“I never told you that I liked him.” They both gave him an ‘ _Are you kidding me?_ ’ look. “Shut up.” … “And he’s coming over for dinner tonight.” 

Yuuri could sense his nervousness, “I’m sure it’ll be fine, he seems like a real gentleman.”

“Do you want us to be there?” 

“No! Why would I want you there? _You_ especially.” 

“Well text us and tell us how it goes.” 

They finished lunch shortly thereafter; Yuuri and Victor went home, they invited him up, but Yuri figured he should get home. He ended up cleaning his room for the first time in…ever? It seemed like that. When he got home from lunch, he spent the rest of the day scrubbing every surface, busying himself, lest his mind wander back to Otabek. 

_Yuuri said it was going to be fine. He’s right, it’s just Otabek, everything will be fine._

 

Back in his hotel room, Otabek spread his new clothes out on the freshly made bed, trying on each ensemble. Ultimately, he was unable to decide. He opted for _another_ shower instead, to clear his head. Why was this _so_ hard? He ran his hands through his hair, washing the conditioner out. The water was scalding hot, but he was too preoccupied to notice. 

He stood over the bed in a towel, _still_ trying to decide what the hell to wear. In the end, he decided the button-down was too much; he went with the grey sweater over the black khakis. He only had his black leather boots for shoes, he briefly wondered if he should get them shined, but figured he could wipe them down and they’d be fine. He fixed his hair in the mirror and sprayed a hint of the cologne. What time was dinner again? Shit, he forgot to ask. What if he was _late_? 

 

Yuri’s phone lit up, it was Otabek.

_What time should I be there?  
I’m not late, am I?_

_Chill, it’s only 4:30  
6:00 should be good._

_Alright_

Yuri felt strangely comforted by the fact that Otabek was just as nervous as he was, although the inevitable conversation about _feelings_ (ew) haunted him. 

 

Otabek checked himself in the mirror _again_ , before he finally stepped out. It was only 5:30, but god forbid he be late for this. He arrived around 5:45, and sat idly on his bike, trying to calm himself before he worked up the nerve to go up. He knocked on the door, still 5 minutes early. Fuck. He forgot to bring wine. You bring wine to things like this, right? Too late to think about that now, he was here, standing at the door, nervous all over again.

Thankfully, it was Yuri who came to the door. His grandfather was still in the kitchen, finishing dinner. “Hey.” They stood awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments before Yuri had the sense to let him in. 

Despite the quiet tension between them at the moment, Otabek found Yuri’s presence calming, to a degree—there was still his intimidating grandfather to contend with. 

“Good evening, sir.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as tense as he felt.

In a welcoming change of pace, Nikolai gave him a warm greeting. “How’re you doing there, son? Dinner will be ready in a few.” 

Surprised, but pleased, Otabek relaxed a little. “Thank you for inviting me, sir.” 

Yuri thought all was going fairly well, “Well I’d like to know who my grandson is dating.” 

He was wrong; Yuri choked on his drink. It took all of his willpower not to spit it everywhere. He didn’t know what to say; they _weren’t_ dating, per se, but he _wanted_ to be. They were in some weird nameless limbo.

Otabek had to suppress his laughter; he was always amazed at how reactionary Yuri could be. “We haven’t gotten quite that far,” he explained, hoping that was enough to diffuse this particular conversation. 

“Well, there’s time. Yurochka, set the table.” Thankful to be released from the situation, Yuri busied himself with menial tasks, leaving Otabek to deal with Grandpa alone. 

Otabek stood, silent and uncomfortable, hoping to think of something to say. “You have a lovely apartment.” Nope. Wrong move.

“I hate small talk.” Nikolai didn’t even bother looking up from the pot he was stirring. 

Yikes. And with that, Otabek excused himself to the bathroom (only to have to search for it because he was too shy to ask).

“Do you really have to be like that?” Yuri berated.  

“Let me have my fun, Yurochka.” Yuri rolled his eyes, and muttered something along the lines of ‘stubborn old man.’  

 

Otabek didn’t even get this nervous for competitions. _Nothing_ made him lose his cool like this, ever. _I hate small talk._ Well, what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Otabek looked up to the mirror, giving himself a hard stare. This shouldn’t be so hard. Sure, he wasn’t the most _charming_  person, but he’s a perfect gentleman, polite and thoughtful, he should be able to get through _one_ dinner. He breathed; his pep talk was working. He could do this. He jumped at a knock on the door. 

Yuri stood there, a perpetually agitated look on his face. “He’s doing it to freak you out, you know. He likes you, don’t worry so much.” Otabek nodded in response, immensely relieved. 

“Would you two get out of the bathroom? Dinner is ready.” 

Dinner wasn’t as difficult as Otabek expected. He was interrogated, for sure, but the questions were easy, things about his family, places he’s lived, hobbies, etc.; nothing too strenuous. They even had some time for nice dinner conversation, it even seemed like Nikolai was warming up to him. When they finished, Otabek diligently cleared he table and offered to do the dishes, which Nikolai staunchly refused with a, “you kids go have some fun,” and a wink. Yuri wanted to die at that particular moment, but brought Otabek to his room and quickly got over it.

Sasha mewled as they took her spot on the bed, but quickly settled into Otabek’s lap.

“We should probably talk about what happened.” 

Yuri couldn’t make eye contact, “I like you. What’s there to talk about?”

“I like you too.”  Sasha was purring. Yuri smiled, reaching out to pet her.

“She likes you too.”  _Kiss me, you idiot._

As if on cue, Otabek's phone buzzed.

 ** _Mila_**  
Mila sent you a location.  
_We’re ready_

Yuri's phone lit up too.

**_Victor & Katsudon_ **

**_Katsudon_ ** _: You’re still with Otabek, right? Come to the apartment._

_We’re a little busy_

**_Victor_ ** _: Oooh sounds sexy_

_Fine. I’m coming.  
But only to kick your ass._

Well, discretion never was their forte.

“Do you know what they’re planning?” 

“I guess we’ll have to go see.” 

 

On Otabek’s bike it only took them a matter of minutes before they reached Victor and Yuuri’s apartment. Not bothering to knock, as usual, Yuri swung the door open.  

“Surprise!” Everyone from the rink was there.

“Happy Birthday, Yuri.” Otabek was behind him, smiling. 

Yuuri ushered them into the apartment. “When Mila told us you’d never had a birthday party, we had to do something.” If Yuri thought he didn’t have friends, he was wrong. 

“You all planned this for me?” It _almost_ sounded like Yuri was getting misty eyed. 

“Well, Victor wasn’t much help,” Mila joked, prompting a pout from Victor, “but yes.” 

“Hey I worked very hard on these decorations!” 

“I know you did, sweetie, and we’re all very proud of you.” He didn’t appreciate Yuuri’s mock comfort and pouted some more. Makkachin can comfort him. 

“Thank you guys.” 

There weren’t a whole lot of people there, but the party was lively nonetheless; close friends and family often make for the best gatherings. They had fun laughing and joking with one another, mostly at Victor’s expense, courtesy of Yuri and Yakov, who got surprisingly funny when tipsy. Like a proud mom, Yuuri filmed it when everyone sang Happy Birthday and Yuri blew out his candles. After cake, the party quieted down, people broke off into smaller groups to chat; Otabek found Yuri leaning on the balcony railing.

“How do you like the party?” He leaned next to him.

“It’s great, I can’t believe everyone did this. Was this the plan all along?”

“More or less.” 

“Thank you, Beka.” 

Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed Yuri. It lingered longer than last time, but the tension was gone. This felt natural. “Happy Birthday, Yura.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, nervous Otabek was not easy to write, he's always so calm and collected.  
> Also, I have a headcanon that the Russian skating fam likes to pick on Victor, so that may have come across a little (a lot, he’s fun to pick on).  
> Let me know what y'all think.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been informed that the drinking age in Russia is NOT sixteen, but we're gonna pretend.   
> (shoulda done my research, whoops)


End file.
